Ola!
by Noreia
Summary: After finishing her studies in a record time of only two and a half years, Hermione decides to stop touring through the whole of Europe and move back to Great Britain. But what expects her there? Lots of Humour and Romance ensue... RC RR - appreciated!
1. Prologue

_**Ola!**_

Chapter 1 – Where it all begins…

"Ha! Gotcha, baby!" I exclaimed excitedly, while sitting up in my bed. The mosquito that was now no longer buzzing around my head in a highly irritating manner was squished into a bloody pulp in my hand.

Subsequent to the first seconds of feeling ecstatic victory soar through my veins, I did get rather disgusted by the mushy red-brown mass in my hand and walked into the bathroom to wash it off. Solemnly, I turned up the water and let the dead body go to the happy hunting-grounds.

After getting rid of the faunal leftovers of what might have possibly been my grandfather, I stepped out of my pyjamas and hopped into the shower.

Aah, god bless the invention of the shower, there was indeed nothing better after a restless sleep.

Enjoying the feel of the water droplets on my tanned skin, I closed my eyes and thought about the last two weeks.

Which hadn't been, come to think of it, very exciting. But that had been exactly what I had needed, after finally finishing my studies. I sure did deserve this three-week holiday in the south of France. Mon Cherie, la Côte d'Azur, je t'aime.

So, in a week's time, I would be back in rainy, foggy, grey ol' England, ready to start looking for a job. Yep, you heard right, Hermione Granger had finished her studies and had yet to get herself a job.

I have to say, I enjoy the feeling of dangling in the air, without knowing what to do next. But I am sure there will be no lack of offers, after all, I am **the **Hermione Granger, the one who helped Harry Potter defeat Voldemort.

But I'm sure that you all know that story from the Daily Prophet, so I won't flog it to death yet again, as not to be a strain on your patience, and last but not least, will to read this.

But I'm digressing, yet again, from the matter that I wanted to address while I was telling you about my thoughts in the shower of my single bedroom in my four-star-hotel, the Hotel Don Cesar in my favourite town in France, Antibes Juan-les-Pins.

So, I guess the more attentive readers will have already guessed my problem.

Yes, indeed. It's always my, my, my. **My **_single_ bedroom, **my** four-star-hotel, **my** favourite town.

Sad, isn't it? Aged 21, always top-of-class, finished studies in a record time of only 2 and a half years (Mind that I now have a Charms, Potions, Arithmancy and Herbology degree…), popular, not bad-looking, at least so I have been told, but I haven't found my Knight in Shining Armour yet, my Romeo, hell, I haven't even found his freaking squire on his lame old donkey.

But before I let myself fall into the depths of despair and hedonism, I have to remind myself of the fact that I, first of all, hadn't been looking very carefully, and secondly, for my studies, I had to tour around Europe for said 2 and a half years.

Of course, I had been at home to visit my friends and family, but I never settled down long enough to get to know someone new or deepen my acquaintances from school or university.

Damn. Already half past eleven and I'm still in the shower. Owing to my pitiful reminiscing, I didn't even notice the water turn cold.

Deciding not to think about my single-do(o)m anymore, I got out, put on my brand-spanking-new golden-polka-dots-on-fuchsia bikini (Well, as brand-spanking-new as it is after a two-week holiday) and made my way to the beach.

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"RON!!! There's an owl for you!" Fred yelled from the living room of the Burrow.

Swiftly, Ron scurried down the stairs and grabbed the letter that Fred was waving in his left hand.

Having ripped it open, he read the few hurriedly scribbled lines and started grinning.

"Harry! Hermione's coming! She's had enough of tramping and holidays!" he shouted and happily ran into the kitchen, where Harry was calmly preparing himself a tasty-looking BLT-Sandwich.

When he heard the news, Harry's face lit up as well, and the two young boys sat down for brunch.

They were both still studying, although not as much and not as intensely as their female friend, thus they had not finished their courses yet.

That explaining why they were both still living with their parents. Or rather, why Ron was living with his parents and Harry was living with his parent-substitutes, Molly and Arthur.

In the last Great War, Muggles had been involved and the Dursleys had been killed. Although Harry had never entertained warm feelings towards them, he had still felt a certain sense of loss when he had heard that Death Eaters had brutally slaughtered them. After all, they had been the first faces he had got to know (and dislike) in his life.

Because of Sirius' death, the Weasleys had offered to take him in until he had finished his learning and was standing on his own two feet.

He had never been more grateful in his life.

"So, Ron, how about we give a little Welcome-Home-Party for Herms?"

"Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. Maybe a Surprise Party. We know how much she _loves_ those…" he suggested sarcastically and the two started planning, both with impish grins on their faces.

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Huffing and puffing, Hermione tried to close her suitcase, but all her efforts were in vain.

It seemed as if some greater power did not want her to take home all these bottles of the finest red and white French wines. Damn, it would have been so nice to 'taste the holiday' at home in Britain (or at least that had been what the salesman at the local Wine-O-Mart had said… cliché, but nevertheless appealing.)

But hey, wasn't British wine supposed to be very tasty as well? Even though this tasty was not tasty as in sunny, warm, lovely nice beaches-tasty, but rather a dull, grey, cloudy-tasty, she'd just have to live with it.

So Hermione took the seven bottles of wine out of her bag, threw them onto her bed, and, lo and behold, the zipper closed with ease. Leaving the bottles on her bed with a sigh, she left her room and walked down the stairs to the reception.

After having checked out, the young woman called a taxi and asked the driver to take her to the airport. Trying hard to hold back a small tear in the corner of her eye, she mentally waved good-bye to her holiday, and although she wasn't aware of it, to her previous life.

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When Madame Julie Longchâmp had finished cleaning up room #137 in Hotel Don Cesar in Antibes that same evening, she left it mumbling something sounding very disapproving and suspiciously like "…alcoolique..."

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**A/N: **

**Hey there :D **

**I'm Marie, this is my first fanfic, blabla, you know the deal :) **

**Anyway, I wanted to thank you for reading through the first chapter of my fic, hope you enjoyed it, and, as always, all comments, be they bad or good, are appreciated and thought about.**

**If you have any suggestions, I'd love to include them :) **

**Oh, and if anybody would be willing to beta-read whatever I manage to type out, I'd be very thankful :) You see, my mother tongue isn't English, so I guess some of my grammar will be on the blink... I think I'm okay at spelling, but mostly grammar is my problem :P So if you are interested, just email-o me at ****mary420aon.at**

**So, I have a good idea about how this story will turn out. It will definitely be romance/humour only. I have no interest whatsoever on explaining the ongoings of the war, blabla, as you might have noticed :P Unless, of course, that is a big problem for the readers and they feel that the story lacks something because of that, then I will do my best to change that :)**

**Okay, so, as said, suggestions/flames/critics/praise/comments/etc... Just review or email me :)**

**Have a great day and may you only find well-written fics :)**

**(Long A/N, I know, thanks for reading, won't happen every time)**

**And this was quite a short chapter... so to speak, there wasn't much I could write for in here, since, in my opinion, this is only a prologue, and had I written any more, it would have become too long :)**

**Bye now :D**


	2. Absolutely wacko

**A/N: Thank you all for the kind reviews :D!**

**And now to answer your question, Alexandra, my mother tongue is German, since I live in Austria :)**

**I have yet to decide what pairing to make, but I don't want to spoil any surprises, so I won't name any, err, names :P But if you have a suggestion, just review or email me :)**

**Have fun with the first proper chapter :D And please do tell me if it is too short, then I'll try to write longer/more detailed! Suggestions always welcome, same with flames/harsh crits/etc..!**

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_**Ola!**_

Chapter 2 – Where it all continues…

_Somewhere over the rainbow..., 27th November _

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I know, I haven't written in a long, long time, and I sincerely apologize for that. I've just had so much on my back lately; I nearly suffocated under the workload. The holiday in France was such a life-saver! Thank you so much again and again, for organising it! I owe you one!_

_So, how've you been? I hope you're doing well with the house. Is everything okay? Electricity? Warm water? No vermin, I hope? That'd be your death, wouldn't it, Mum ;)?_

_But to get back to my holiday: The weather was breathtaking, the hotel was great and the people were, and still are, I presume, full of warmth._

_Oh, and I think I fell in love._

_Ha! I just had to include that! I can just picture you, Mum, gasping and smiling. But what I had wanted to say:_

_I think I fell in love with the Côte d'Azur. What we saw when we were on holiday in Paris and Bordeaux is just Peanuts against this Idyll. _

_But to make you at least a little bit more content, Mum, whenever I get married, my honeymoon will lead me and my husband back to Antibes. I promise you that._

_See, that was a promise that I won't end as an old spinster (Insert a laugh here)._

_I hope you two forgive me for leaving you alone for such a long time, I mean, it's been, what, a year since I last saw you? But I'm probably already on my way to the Burrow as you read these lines. As soon as I can free myself from the loving clutches of Molly, I will come and visit you!_

_Much love, many hugs and many kisses from wherever I am when this arrives,_

_Your little Heerminy_

Thiswas the letter that Hermione had written to her parents before heading to the airport.

She had not seen them for a year, a month and twenty-three days now, a long time for a single-child who had always been spoiled by her loving, though sometimes over-protective parents.

Not to mention how long it was for said loving but over-protective parents.

It had been hard enough for them when Hermione had left for Hogwarts and had only returned home for a few weeks every six months.

But being the devoted parents they were, they had decided that if Hermione wanted to tour around Europe while studying, and if that was what made her happy, there was nothing they could do. Or rather, there was nothing else they wanted to do.

Usually, Hermione wrote every two weeks, but this time, it had taken her a month. The two adults in their mid-60s had been worried to death.

They too had been involved in the war, albeit only as victims, but it was through these circumstances that they had learned of the mortal threat their daughter had been in for the past seven years.

Their near-death experiences, however, had had some positive sides too. They had always been very shy, silent, cautious people, never the ones to be in the centre of a crowd.

But when they had come this close to dying, they had decided to end that chapter of their life and start anew.

First step had been building themselves a new house in the countryside, much larger and airier and modern than they had ever thought they would build.

Next, Frank had bought himself a new car, a blazingly red Porsche, and he loved going for a drive in the evening after a lovely candle-light dinner with Amelia.

And Amelia, herself, had always wanted a swimming pool, so now, in their humongous garden, there was a huge pool, complete with slides and all the mambo-jambo one could wish for.

But back to the present, the two were delighted to read that their precious daughter was coming to visit soon.

"Frank, what do you think she'll say about my new hairstyle?"

"Oh, don't worry, darling. Purple has always been her favourite colour, hasn't it?"

Their laughter echoed in the hills surrounding their little mansion.

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When the young woman with the curly auburn hair apparated onto the small meadow next to Harlow, one of the bigger Apparition spots near the Weasley's hometown of Ottery St. Catchpole, a cold, forceful gust of wind hit her square in the face, chilling her to the bone.

"What a warm welcome…" Hermione mumbled, brushing a few strands of hair out of her face.

Since she had decided to surprise the family and apparate silently into their house, Hermione had apparated here before apparating to the Burrow straight from Stansted Airport.

And if you are now wondering why she did not apparate straight from Antibes to Harlow:

Ever since the end of the War, new, international laws had been enacted, securing that nobody could simply apparate from one country into the other, thus possibly posing a threat to the inhabitants of that country. Since then, illegal immigration had been stopped, but wizards had had to accustom themselves to using more traditional means of transport for covering long-distance travels.

Picking up the suitcase that she had put down when adjusting her hair, Hermione pulled her grey coat around her a little tighter and disappeared with a faint 'plop'.

The hunter that had been waiting in the woods for some game to cross the small glade slowly lowered his rifle and rubbed his eyes. Hard. He made a mental resolution never to drink brandy before 6 pm ever again.

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The small garden belonging to the Burrow was completely dark, none of the windows of the crooked house lit, and the stars and the moon were covered by a thick blanket of ominous clouds.

If one listened closely, he could hear muffled shuffling of feet from the inside of the building.

"Oomph…"

"Ouch! Watch it, knobhead!"

"Ron! If I ever hear you say a word like that again, I will make sure that there will be a picture of a certain red-headed war hero cuddling his favourite Barney the Dinosaur Plushie will be published on the front page of the Daily Prophet tomorrow, understood?"

"Ye-yes Mum… but you wouldn't... you… you couldn't!"

Silence extended its tentacles again, holding the small room firmly in its grasp.

"You would." That was an obviously terrified voice speaking, considering that Ron's normal pitch wasn't equal to that of an excited third year making his first declaration of undying love to a fellow classmate.

Again, silence.

Then, the cheerful chiming of the Weasley Original Grandfather Clock, announcing that it was now time for dinner. 7:30 pm, so to speak.

"She's late." The whispering shook the small crowd out of their stupor, and a loud 'clank' could be heard from one of the corners of the small room.

"George, scare me like that again and you'll die a painful, excruciating death, your remnants will be torn apart by my two hands before being tossed into the sea, washed away and nobody will ever know of your existence."

The melodious, female voice sounded dead-serious.

Until several coughs were to be heard and the girl apparently broke out in wannabe maniacal cackling.

"And then it's your turn, all of you! _Then_ nobody will ever know of that prat of a brother's existence!"

"Pssht! Shut it, guys! She'll be arriving any second from now!"

That had been the voice of reason, Harry.

Several minutes of waiting later, Bill cleared his throat and tentatively whispered

"Erm, I know this is all very exciting, we all haven't seen Hermione in a long time, but you do know that I have some work to do until tomorrow? I sincerely hope this is worth it. I mean, don't get me wrong, but if it turns out that she mutated into a red-haired broom-up-the-ass librarian feminist, I'll regret agreeing to attend to this family reunion."

"Bill, is there anything wrong in the _slightest_ with being a red-head? And, for Merlin's sake, stop the sappy whispering. If she's here, she'll hear us anyway, even if we whisper. She's not stupid, you know?" asked a sarcastic, very Ginny voice from the far left of the darkened room.

A male voice spoke up, "Well, that is in the eye of the beholder, Gin," he laughed, before continuing cheekily, "Oh, and by the way, I doubt Hermione_ turned_ into a feminist. I mean, she's been one since she first saw that boys get larger underwear. Although I doubt she understood the reason of that back then."

A few snorts and sniggers were to be heard, and, of course, Molly's disapproving sighing, accompanied by a fraught "What did I do to deserve this?"

"But I wasn't joking, unfortunately, I _really _have some work to do and my hand is getting numb from holding up this stupid 'Welcome Home Hermione!' banner."

"Don't worry, Bill," said George soothingly, "she'll be here soon, and I'm sure she'll _sweep _you off your feet with that broom of hers, right after she finished unpacking all her books about Abigail Adams and how to treat red, bushy hair."

"Ha. Very funny, George. But to be honest, I quite like my brown hair, at the moment."

And again, silence.

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**Love/Hate/Don't care? That wee blue button down there is screaming for you to press it :D! Makes me type faster :P**


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